


Blood Red Setting Sun

by Kalisca



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cullrian Mini-Bang, Electricity trick, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, M/M, Rite of Tranquility, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tranquil!Dorian, blowjob, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalisca/pseuds/Kalisca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This wasn’t Dorian anymore, not the Dorian who would make fun of Felix when he’d become flustered and tongue-tied when trying to talk to a girl, who introduced him to the delicacies of wine and with whom he discussed for hours about books no one else took interest into. He couldn’t believe it, to use such radical mean for such a pitiful reason. </i>
</p><p>Halward Pavus didn't use blood magic on his son, he turned him Tranquil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Red Setting Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Krwistoczerwone otoczenie słońca](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842540) by [Regalia1992](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regalia1992/pseuds/Regalia1992)



> This is a story I wrote for the Cullrian Mini-Bang on Tumblr, the prompt being “chess”. Writing a Tranquil!Dorian was one hell of a challenge, to be honest. I basically had to write him the complete opposite of his usual personality. That’s when you realize how much your words are influenced by your feelings.
> 
> Title taken from the song _Love Crime_ , by Siouxsie Sioux and Brian Reitzell, which was featured in Hannibal’s series finale (It was beautiful).

Felix and Dorian met when the latter became one of his father’s apprentices. Their friendship blossomed however after an accidental encounter in the middle of the night as Dorian was doing very poorly of getting discreetly to his quarters, while Felix was fetching a slave to make him a midnight snack. One quick look at his bloodshot eyes and his half-dressed state and he knew where he’d been. Later on, he learnt the reason of his escapade was his father who despised about everything Dorian was.

Felix was the first to know about Dorian’s sexual preferences, the one he confessed his fears and his worries to. When his mother died and the first signs of the Blight began to show, Dorian showed him how to properly get drunk.

Seeing Dorian drown his sorrow in alcohol and disappear in brothels for days after his father and him had another argument saddened Felix. He didn’t like his choices but he wasn’t the one who had to live with Halward Pavus, so he did the best he could to cheer him up when they were together and kept a regular correspondence with him once Dorian’s apprenticeship was over.

Dorian would always write him back, his complains his way of telling him he was alright, and complained he did about everything; from his forced date with the daughter of a powerful Magister to the rarity of his favourite hair product. He would always reply to Felix, so when months went by without any news, Felix couldn’t help but become worried. He knew Dorian could take care of himself, and Felix was just being a mother hen, but he’d seen how poorly his father treated him, he believed he had reason to be worried.

His own father was also aware of Dorian’s family situation; he was the one who pushed Felix to pay the Pavus family a visit. If only he’d listened to himself and visited a week earlier, maybe he could have changed something. As soon as he stepped inside the glorious mansion, he knew something was wrong. The slaves knew he was a friend, usually always so much jovial, but that day they wouldn’t even stop to talk to him.

Instead he was greeted by a satisfied-looking Halward, telling him Dorian was studying in his room, and if Felix knew something, it was that he usually never knew what his son was up about. He never had any interest in knowing his son, sometimes he wouldn’t even be aware if Dorian was present in the house. He quickly walked to Dorian’s quarters and, effectively, there he was. He didn’t turn around, however, didn’t greet him or even acknowledged his presence.

What happened for Dorian to be this quiet? As he approached his friend, who was reading, the recognizable sun carved in Dorian’s forehead was proof enough.

“Good day, Felix.” Never during their friendship had Dorian used such a tone with him, his eyes dull and devoid of emotions. He looked at him briefly, and Felix couldn’t stop a sob from escaping at the realization.

“How could he do this to you?” He managed to choke out, tears already streaming down his cheeks. He could feel it, Dorian had no connection to the Fade anymore. He was no longer a mage.

“Father wanted me to procreate and continue the Pavus lineage. It is my body’s function.”

This wasn’t Dorian anymore, not the Dorian who would make fun of Felix when he’d become flustered and tongue-tied when trying to talk to a girl, who introduced him to the delicacies of wine and with whom he discussed for hours about books no one else took interest into. He couldn’t believe it, to use such radical mean for such a pitiful reason.

“There were other ways, he didn’t have to make you…” _Tranquil_.

Despite Felix’s reaction, Dorian merely nodded at his comment. “None as effective as this one. Blood magic often has side effects worse than the desired one. Father saw this through.”

Felix couldn’t take this anymore. “I’m so sorry, Dorian…”

He left through the slaves’ exit, unwilling to face again that monster who called himself a father. Immediately, he began to make arrangements for Dorian’s escape. Perhaps he wouldn’t agree, but Felix would find something to convince him. The real Dorian, the one with emotions, would have done the same thing if the roles had been reversed.

Many of the Pavus slaves liked Dorian for his kindness, it was easy to convince them to help Felix lead the Tranquil out of his mansion and through alleys towards the carriage waiting for them. It broke his heart that Dorian didn’t put up any resistance, he let himself be dragged in the carriage without a flick of protest. He only began to question Felix once he learnt the other wouldn’t accompany him.

“There’s a mage rebellion in the South, your help will be appreciated.”

“I am no longer a mage, what help would I provide?”

“Much more than if you stay here and become your father’s puppet. Write me as soon as you see one of those war dogs Fereldan is famous for having. I wish I could come with you, but that’d be too suspicious.”

Dorian knew that traveling to Redcliffe, even if done as fast as possible, would take months. Felix gave a lot of money to the carriage rider, he wanted him far away from his father, but Dorian understood his genitor’s decision. He only had done the necessary to assure the continuity of their lineage. He was a product, generations of powerful mages breeding to produce him, and he’d wanted to waste it all because of his sexual preferences. A simple personal detail that put sand in a well-oiled machine.

Felix squeezed his hand one last time before stepping back, watching the carriage leave with a sigh of relief. He probably would deal with the wrath of Pavus senior, but he cared not, as long as his friend was safe from him. He was already sentenced to die anyway, with the Blight slowly decaying his organs and turning him into a living corpse.

 

The mages didn’t want Tranquils in their rebellion, they felt uncomfortable around them, but they reminded them why they were fighting for in the first place. They were drinking potions faster that they were making them however, and so Dorian’s role was quickly decided. He was to help Clemence, the Tranquil alchemist. His luggage was thrown in a corner of the tavern’s upper floor where a dozen mages already slept in close quarters.

He quickly became efficient at crafting potions, enchanting armors and weapons, but his anatomy knowledge, a subject on which books were prohibited by the Chantry, made him the healer’s assistant as well. His quick diagnostics saved lives and he plunged his hands in guts and blood without a blink. Mages began to refer to him for various subjects. Most were from the South, their Circles not providing a fraction of the multiple circles’ knowledge Dorian frequented in his youth. To them, Tevinter looked like Heaven, until one asked the reason of his tranquil state.

Weeks went by, until one day, the Venatori were at Recliffe’s gates. They were offering help against the Templars, it was with naïve hope Fiona invited them in. They invaded them, even if a few were probably already among them to encourage the alliance with the Tevinter Imperium. They forced the habitants out of their homes to claim them as their own, scared the younger ones and talked loudly in general. The mage rebels became even more oppressed.

Dorian had no interest in following the events. His focus was turned on the completion of his work, whether it was the making of potions or being awoken a few hours before dawn to clean wounds and stitch skin back together. His only personal matter was his correspondence with Felix. In his last letter, he’d warned him about the Venatori and announced him that Alexius was part of them now. He also told him to not bring attention on him, to not trust them.

Dorian didn’t need advice to know that already. He’d noticed some of the Tranquils disappearing one at a time, without reason for leaving; saw one being manhandled away without the mages doing anything to stop the Venatori. It was better the Tranquils than them, after all.

One evening, he was getting out of the tub in the small washroom he shared with the dozen mages when someone barged in without knocking. Dorian had no notion of privacy anymore, and the others usually gave him space without being asked to, but the person wasn’t someone he recognized, and the look he sent him was full of malice.

“May I help you?” Dorian asked, drying himself with a towel that had seen better days. His body was exhausted after a day of helping the wounded, he wasn’t sure he could answer properly to any inquiries.

“I know multiple ways you could help me.” He approached Dorian. “I think I’ll have my way with you before I drag you to the others to make an ocularum out of your pretty skull. It’s not like you’ll say no, all you Tranquils are better than trained sex slaves.”

He made to grab his arm when Dorian took a step back, his face blank. He needed a minimum of five hours of sleep to be fully efficient, and it was already late. One of the mages, Ivad, liked to talk to him about his day before bed, confessed that it was easier to fall asleep afterwards. He was probably already waiting for him.

“Now he’s backing away from me…” the mage snickered.

“I was about to dress myself, please step back.”

“You won’t need to.”

“Is everything alright, Dorian? I heard voices…” It was Ivad, the Fereldan’s face hardening when he saw the other mage so close to him. “What the fuck are you doing with him?”

“What? Can’t a man take his pleasure wherever he wants?”

“Get away from him,” Ivad coldly replied, electricity running along his fingers. The other one scoffed and thought better than to threaten a larger, more muscular man than him. He left after a last look at Dorian’s naked form.

“Are you alright?” Ivad asked him once they were alone. He kept his eyes on his face, talking gently when it was unnecessary, as Dorian didn’t need to be comforted.

“Yes.” Dorian picked up his smalls and put them on.

“Don’t you realize what almost happened?” Ivad was wearing a disbelieving expression. He gave him the rest of his clothes.

“He wanted to have a sexual intercourse with me.”

“He was about to rape you.”

“My consent would have been dubious, indeed, as I don’t have sexual interests.”

“Dorian…” Ivad was at a loss for words. He brought the Tranquil in a tight embrace, but the hug was more a comforting gesture for himself than for Dorian. The latter allowed it, arms trapped underneath Ivad’s strong ones. The mage pressed a lingering kiss on his forehead, right in the middle of the Chantry’s sun.

“Come on, I have a few things I’d like to talk about.”

The next day, words ran that a powerful Magister had arrived in Redcliffe, but it was of no importance to Dorian. His only concern was the armour he was currently enchanting. Of all his tasks, that was the one he had the most problems with. Clemence had explained the procedure but working with raw lyrium wasn’t an easy task.

“You shaved your moustache off,” someone commented beside him, and he turned to see Felix walk in. His face was paler than the last time they’d seen each other.

“It was unnecessary to my personal hygiene. Your illness worsened.”

“I’m not dead yet, at least. How have you been?” Felix came closer, placed a cold hand on his arm. Dorian looked down at it. From his memories, Felix’s hands always had been warm.

“Good. My work here helps.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Your father doesn’t know where you are. He has his doubts I’m the one who helped you, but he can’t touch me.”

Dorian nodded, turning back to his work.

“Are you here on behalf of your father?” He inquired.

“No, actually. He doesn’t know that you’re here either, and I wanted to talk to you about it. I need your help.” The Altus’ voice held desperate edges. Whatever it was, it was important to him.

“I’m listening, Felix.”

“He used time travel magic to arrive here before the Inquisition.”

“The time traveling magic was nothing but theories when I was still his apprentice. To use it would be dangerous with unknown results. Yet you claim it successfully worked to come here?”

“It did. He wants to force an alliance with the mages, so they’re at the Venatori’s orders afterwards.”

“That is dangerous.”

The Inquisition was to arrive in the next day or two. A plan was quickly prepared, but Dorian didn’t expect a rift to open in the middle of the Chantry. He barely met the Herald of Andraste before he was forced to ask for help, as she was the only one able to close it.

Rumors from the Venatori about the woman had portrayed Lavellan as a weak Dalish mage with weak elemental spells. Dorian quickly accessed her skills and deemed her adequate with her magic and as a leader. She wasn’t used to her title or to be surrounded by humans, yet her decisions were quick and demonstrated a strategic mind. Like most of the mages, she looked saddened and uncomfortable by his Tranquil state, and so he widened his lips to ease her obvious tension during their conversations. It appeared to frighten her even further.

Once she returned to Haven with her companions, he followed them. It was easy, as they killed any threat for him. He interrupted the war council to help them find a solution, as he was the most knowledgeable on Alexius and the magic they worked on together.

Later on, once they traveled forth and back in time and that Alexius was chained, Lavellan thanked him for the help and asked for his assistance in the Inquisition as an agent. With the mages now allied with the Inquisition, Dorian saw no purpose in staying in Redcliffe anymore. His input as a Tevinter runaway would be useful once again, it seemed. He accepted, deeming that the Inquisition would provide more resources to continue his studies. He would always be a scholar no matter what.

Before departing, Felix bid him goodbye. It would probably be the last time they saw each other, with the Blight growing stronger each day.

No matter what, everybody died in the end.

Putting his few possessions in his luggage was quick, as some had been stolen and they were even fewer now. Some persons he grew to know along the past weeks said their goodbye. One had tears in his eyes. Ivad held him in his arms for a long time, asking him in a choked voice for news once he was settled. Something soft played in his dark eyes, an emotion Dorian had yet to identify before it disappeared behind a smile. Ivad always had been the most polite with him, always had been one of the few who didn’t mind discussing with him for long lengths of time.

Haven was colder than Redcliffe, something he’d forgotten during his quick first trip to inform the Inquisition’s advisors and the Herald. Snow invaded his leather boots as soon as he stepped in it. Shouts could be heard from the training grounds, soldiers under the supervision of a blond man. Commander Cullen, he remembered him from the war councils he witnessed.

He met the other companions of Lavellan’s inner circle during the next days. They were disparate, bringing different opinions on the matters the Inquisition had to face. The organization was not even a year old, yet its influences were already spreading all over Thedas.

The Qunari who called himself the Iron Bull followed him around for two days before Dorian came up to him when he noticed him walking behind him outside Haven’s gates as he was gathering herbs by Lavellan’s request.

“Is there a reason for you keeping an eye on me?”

Iron Bull’s said eye twitched. “Do I need one?”

“I noticed you lurking nearby me.”

The warrior looked at him for a moment, especially the sun carved on his forehead.

“You are trying to decipher if I’m pretending to be Tranquil,” Dorian said.

“You could be a Tevinter spy,” the reply came quickly. Iron Bull didn’t hide his Ben-Hassrath’s status from anyone, not even from supposed enemies.

“I’m not. I am Tranquil.”

“Then why keep the robes?” Iron Bull gestured to his burgundy outfit.

“These are the clothes I ran away with.”

Before the Qunari had time to reply, someone else called them over. “Is there a problem here?” It was Cullen, face distraught with sweat despite that day’s cold wind.

Iron Bull looked at Dorian for a moment longer, then finally shrugged. “Nah, everything’s fine.” He turned around and joined his Chargers. Dorian turned to Cullen who cleared his throat once his attention was on him.

“I thank you for your assistance, but Iron Bull was not harmful.”

“Let me be the judge of that. He might be a spy, but that doesn’t earn him the right to be intruding.” The commander rubbed his neck, sighing. “I admit I had some doubts about you as well.”

“And now?” Dorian leaned down to cut off some elfroot, putting it in his satchel.

“I’ve been… I have… I mean, you are Tranquil, I would recognize one.” Cullen appeared flustered. Sweat was collecting at his brow, and his eyes were sunken in with dark shadows underneath.

“Are you feeling well, Commander?” Cullen looked surprised for a second. “I am very good at reading people, you seem ill.”

“I… don’t sleep very well.”

“I recommend valerian or lavender tea to relax and help with sleep,” Dorian told him, unblinking. That earned him a small smile from Cullen.

“I’m afraid the source of my problem isn’t the lack of sleep itself, but I’m grateful for the suggestions.”

“You mean it is the result of something else. Nightmares, perhaps?”

Dorian didn’t know any special poultices that would give dreamless sleep, but he could discuss of it with the healer or Solas.

“… I have some paper work to do. I’ll leave you to your… gardening.” Dorian nodded. Cullen didn’t want to talk about it.

“If you ever were in need of help, I am here to assist, Commander.”

“As you were.” Dorian caught a peculiar expression on Cullen’s scared face before he was striding away, towards his tower.

Dorian was kept occupied over the next weeks. When it wasn’t the Inquisitor asking him to complete trivial tasks, he would help Adan with crafting potions or enchant Harritt’s armors and weapons. His functions were almost the same than at Redcliffe, but he also had access to a small library and could request more books to Josephine. He began to search for any information on the Elder one, but there wasn’t much to find.

Then the breach was sealed in the sky, and everyone cheered. Someone put a drink in his hands, not caring that he was a Tranquil and telling him to enjoy himself. Dorian discarded the cup to someone else, and after a few hours during which the people lost their inhibitions, some becoming even touchy with him, he left in the direction of his small house outside the gates to sleep. Or at least he was going to, until he noticed the considerable amount of torches moving down the mountain and towards Haven. The colours of their armour wasn’t the Inquisition’s or anything he recognized, and were glowing red. 

Nobody else had seen them, quite a feat considering the size of the army. Just as he thought, screams alerted of its presence, and soldiers clumsily gathered their weapons to ready themselves with a short notice. He couldn’t fight with magic, but he still had his staff with him and knew how to use it effectively. Someone had to alert the Inquisitor, still, and everyone was rushing forward to defend Haven before the enemies invaded it.

His plan didn’t include falling over on the commander, but he wasn’t used to fight anymore, he had little to no stamina left. Cullen kept a warm gloved hand on his bare shoulder as they quickly discussed of the next plan of action. When Dorian meant to help Chancellor Roderick, the commander stopped him.

“You stay with me. One of my men will take care of him.”

Despite the healer’s best abilities, the Chancellor didn’t survive the attack. He died through the night, right before the herald was found.

Later in the evening, once almost everyone was asleep except for the guards on duty, Cullen sat beside him around the campfire. One look at Dorian and he gave him his fur mantle. He knew Tranquils would only satisfy their basic needs out of necessity, but Dorian was from the Imperium he must’ve felt cold in some way.

“I don’t require your cape, commander. You need it more than I do,” Dorian informed him with that monotone accented voice of his.

“I’m Fereldan, I’m used to it, whereas I doubt your outfit keeps you very warm.”

“It is tolerable.”

Cullen hummed, looking at the fire. Dorian observed his frown and his exhausted eyes. The man would always appear fearless before his troops, but here with Dorian, he considered it harmless to show his flaws, his features darkening under the constant worries.

“I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done earlier,” Cullen said, interrupting his thoughts.

“It was my duty, as the others’ attention was turned to defending Haven. I thought this would be more resourceful with my defenseless state.”

“Nevertheless, you helped saving lives. Beside, I’ve seen you handle your staff.” Cullen quickly realized his innuendo and awkwardly coughed under Dorian’s placid gaze. “You’re adept at hitting with it, is what I meant.”

“A useful technique required when the enemies are too close for casting magic. Ferelden do not teach them.”

It took a moment for Cullen to reply, deep in his thoughts. “There’s a lot they don’t teach,” he mumbled. “Did you have to defend yourself in such way often?”

“Sometimes. I was not expected to do so.”

Cullen frowned. He’d been around enough Tranquils to know what it meant. Too many times had he heard of stories of abuse, back in Kirkwall. He’s been such a blind sod, to consider them little more than furniture when he was a Templar. How stupid of him to think that way, when the person sitting beside him demonstrated more intelligence and wisdom that himself.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Dorian.”

“Commander.”

“How long have you been a Tranquil?”

“About a year.”

“Has there been anyone accompanying you?” Cullen knew he was intrusive, that Dorian would answer any questions thrown at him, but he found himself to be worrying for him.

“I left my homeland alone and was so ever since,” Dorian replied.

Another question was burning Cullen’s tongue, but he refrained himself. He had no right to ask the reason. He stood up instead, wincing as the throbbing headache that hadn’t left him since Haven made a comeback.

“I’ll try to get some sleep. I’ve been drinking the tea you suggested, and you were right, it helps.”

Dorian smiled, stiff and the rest of his face not moving. “Good night, commander.”

They didn’t have the occasion to speak together over the next weeks. Rather, Cullen didn’t stop by to talk to Dorian, as a Tranquil would rarely ask questions on their own. He would often see him through Skyhold’s halls, heading for the library or his quarters, but he had more work than he ever had, and mixed with the side effects his lyrium withdrawal would occur, he simply didn’t wish to bother Dorian with his sour mood and his invasive questions, even though he perfectly knew Dorian wasn’t capable of feeling invaded in the first place.

He was attracted to the Tranquil despite himself and often wondered how Dorian was, a year earlier. Some recruits said that he’d ran away from home, but there was no way a Tranquil would make such decision on their own. There must’ve been something else, a friend or a relative helping him, and for what; from what or whom? The ones responsible from making him Tranquil? The rite was hardly used in the Imperium, it was a questioning matter on its own, as blood magic wasn’t as taboo there, or so he’d heard.

Of course Cassandra would take notice. He considered her a friend ever since she began to help him with the withdrawal, she had an empathetic heart within a hard exterior. They were similar, yet could argue for hours, and it had forged their friendship.

He was heading for the war room to prepare the maps when he passed by Dorian who was going the same way. He swept a glance his way to ensure nobody had bothered him again. He’d warned Iron Bull to quit his spying on the Tranquil, but others also had a liking on bullying Tranquils. He continued towards Josephine’s office when he bumped into Cassandra. She was also looking at Dorian, then at Cullen with a smirk. He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck, knowing he’d been discovered.

“A Tranquil, really?” Cassandra’s tone was amused, yet held concerned undertones.

“He’s a lot more than just a Tranquil. If you’ll excuse me.”

She followed him to the war table, where she watched him work with a raised eyebrow until he got tired of it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he growled.

“And what am I thinking?”

“That it’s self-destructive to bear feelings for someone who can’t.”

“You deserve your happiness, Cullen, wherever you might find it. Dorian is a valued agent of the Inquisition and brings important information on Corypheus.”

“But?”

Cassandra sighed, crossed her arms. “You already stated my worry. Dorian might bring you… intellectual pleasure and he might be pretty to look at, but he won’t ever be able to return your feelings.”

“He’s more than pretty,” Cullen mumbled with a blush, making sure to look everywhere but at Cassandra. “I know already, believe me. I tried to ignore my attraction, but… there’s something that drags me to him. I want to protect him, and when I see one of those Orlaisian nobles looking at him like he’s a piece of meat, by the Maker, I just…” He exhaled loudly, rubbing his brow, and Cassandra shot him a look of sympathy.

“You may be near him, at least, be his friend.”

“Thank you, Cassandra.” He gave her a genuine smile that she returned.

“Anytime.”

She left him alone, and he followed her after a few minutes, unable to continue his work. Dorian was eating in the hall while reading, seated beside Varric and Sera who were exchanging stories. He sat on his other side, his stomach growling in agreement.

“Curly, didn’t know you quit your tower.”

“He has a hole in th’ roof to get some sun, innit?” Sera guffawed, and Cullen wondered now exactly she knew that.

“Were you the one to put a rock under one of my desk’s legs, Sera?”

“Wasn’t me!”

“Staying in your tower won’t help you find a princess,” Varric piped in, changing the subject.

“Good thing I’m not looking for one,” Cullen filled his plate with food and a bowl of porridge. He realized he was famished and couldn’t remember the last time he ate. The day before, most probably.

“A prince, then?” Varric continued to tease him, and Cullen glared at him, praying he wouldn’t blush. That would give him right away.

Dorian hadn’t stirred at their conversation, still reading. Cullen read the title as he turned the page. A book on chess strategy.

“You enjoy chess?” Cullen asked without thinking, surprised, then frowned. “I mean, you know how to play?”

“I do. I learnt when I was a child.”

“Oh. I did too, even though I wasn’t very good at it.”

“It takes a strategic mind, indeed.” It was almost teasing, from the way Dorian said it. They continued eating, until Dorian was about to rise.

“Would you play with me, sometimes? At chess?”

Dorian turned around. “Of course. I am available this afternoon, if you are as well, commander.”

“Perfect. There is a chess table in the garden. Meet me there in an hour?”

Dorian inclined his head with one of his weird emotionless smiles and took off. Varic was still at the table and regarded him with a smirk.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t know you had it in you, Curly.”

Cullen glowered and scoffed. “By the Maker, it’s a chess game.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

He left the hall quickly after, angry that he could so easily be read. Cassandra was his friend and Varric was a writer, but if everyone discovered he liked Dorian, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. The best was to ignore it for the moment, even though he’d fuel the rumors by being in public with him. Whatever helped these nobles to sleep at night.

When Cullen walked in the garden, Dorian was already present, the table ready. He’d chosen the black pawns. Their first game was almost spent in silence, and Cullen wasn’t surprised at Dorian’s prowess, but he was the commander. It was only a matter of strategy before he won.

“It’s interesting to see your mind at work, commander.” Dorian commented as he cleaned the board for a new game. He looked up to stare in the Tranquil’s piercing eyes.

“Interesting?”

“You take this game very seriously.”

Cullen smirked. “Didn’t you as well?”

“It makes me use my abilities in other ways.” Dorian’s eyes were grey like the steel of his sword, beautiful in that day’s sunlight that cast shadows on his features.

“Another game?” Cullen suggested, already resetting the board. Dorian helped him without a word, their hands brushing a few times. Cullen might’ve admitted that was on purpose.

Thus began this new routine. Twice a week they would meet to play chess, where Cullen could relax and talk his mind without fear of being judged. He didn’t consider Dorian his confident, but he was easy to talk to, he listened and would offer considerate advice. He would never make obvious jokes, but sometimes Cullen would catch glimpses of the personality buried behind that blood red setting sun. It was those moments he cherished the most.

Dorian and him were parting ways when they encountered Cole. He was easily forgotten, but not the words he couldn’t keep in.

“ _Terror finally becomes almost bearable, but never quite. Monster, he called me. Monsters are to stay in the dark_.”

Dorian looked at Cole. There was the slightest frown on his face. “Pardon?”

“He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Please, father, I won’t do it again.”

“Cole, stop,” Cullen stepped before the spirit, and Cole’s unsteady gaze turned to him.

“ _Tears mark the beginning of love. Even if I lose my mind and go crazy, I can’t fix things right_.” He stopped, placed his hands against his ears. “I’m sorry, you hurt so loudly.”

“Cole, I think it’d be best if you left.”

“But I want to help.”

“It is too late, Cole,” Dorian stated. “Excuse me.” He quickly climbed the stairs and disappeared, leaving a frowning Cullen and an agitated Cole. Ever since he forgave the person who killed him, Cole was slowly becoming more spirit than human, and he stayed cautious around him.

“It looked as if he…”

“Confusion, hurt, deception.”

“How…?” They looked at each other. Cole shrugged.

He found Cassandra practicing on the dummies behind the Herald’s Rest.

“Something happened,” he announced her, still not believing it.

“What is it?” Cassandra tensed. Never had she seen Cullen this shaken.

“Dorian felt something.”

“What?” The seeker frowned, confused.

“Cole appeared while we were walking, and I think the spirit’s presence influenced him in some way, he…” Cullen stopped, analyzing for the first time Cole’s words.

“What happened?”

“He appeared hurt for a second. His expression changed, that’s for sure. And Cole said… By the Maker, he said something about his father disapproving his choices, even calling him a monster, and mentioned a dark place, I’m not sure if that was figurative or real.”

“That is troublesome.”

His hair was dishevelled by this point with the amount of times he ran his hands through it.

“It was so sudden, I doubt it was anything but pleasant for him to feel again, let alone to be remembered those memories.” He sighed. “I’m sorry to bother you with this.”

“Nonsense. I was looking forward to spare with you, in fact.”

Cullen smirked. Sparring helped to evacuate his negative emotions. Worrying would do nothing but drain him, and for a moment, he worried about not being knocked out by Cassandra. He might be training the troops, but he didn’t have the experience she had, and she was frustrated that day, putting more strength in her blows than needed.

“Something has been troubling me as well,” Cassandra admitted after, both sweaty and covered in dirt. Cullen looked at her, giving him her attention.

“I’ve located the missing Seekers at the Castle of Caer Oswin, we leave tomorrow. I am afraid of what we’ll discover there. My apprentice is there as well.”

“Daniel? You taught him well, Cassandra, he’ll be fine,” Cullen placed his hand on her arm to let her know he was there for her, and she patted it, looking miserable.

“I cannot shake the fear that something bad will happen.”

“At least you’ll know.”

“I wonder if I truly wish to. I dedicated my life to the Seekers…” She didn’t continue, but Cullen understood.

“And I to the Templars. There is no way to know which choice is the best, you just have to live through it.”

“You became a good man, Cullen.” Cassandra’s expression was soft, a rare occurrence.

“I try to be.”

“And look at you now, looking at Dorian with adoration and smiling more often.”

“That’s because my withdrawal is getting better,” he protested with a blush, and Cassandra chuckled.

“Of course.”

He left for the common baths with a groan. About a week later, he was in the garden with Dorian, being slowly but surely beaten at their usual game of chess, as Cullen was trying his best to not linger his eyes on the other’s face; those eyes and that mouth and that jawline were immensely distracting, however.

Dorian was only a few turns away from the winning move then Lavellan appeared beside the table. Really, that woman could appear out of thin air. No wonder she liked Sera that much, they probably taught each other a few tricks.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen nodded at her once his heart started beating again. Dorian hadn’t even budged, except to move a pawn.

“Check, commander. Inquisitor.”

She smiled at them and turned to Dorian. “A letter arrived for you.”

For the Inquisitor to personally deliver it meant it was important.

“I maintain correspondences with some acquaintances.”

“It’s from your father, actually.” Lavellan’s sweet face was twisted, troubled.

“Who gave it to you?” Cullen inquired, and they exchanged a look. They both knew his father was involved in Dorian’s Tranquil state and the main reason he left Tevinter.

“Mother Giselle.”

She gave Dorian the letter, and Cullen stood.

“Perhaps I should leave you alone, it seems to be a personal matter.”

“He wants my return in Tevinter,” Dorian interrupted.

“Is there any specific reason for him to write to Mother Giselle and not directly to you?”

“My departure was without his knowledge. He made me Tranquil for me to produce an heir and would certainly kidnap me once more rather than let the information spread and create a scandal on the Pavus family.”

“Once more?” Cullen slowly repeated, taken aback. Dorian had been kidnapped by his father before the Rite of Tranquility was forced upon him. “All of this so his lineage would continue? What about your siblings?”

“I’m an only son, my parents were unable to have any other children after me.”

“This doesn’t give him the right to control your life this way.” Cullen was fuming. He almost wished to meet the man so he could punch him in the face.

“I’ll write him back, let him know you are now under the protection of the Inquisition and strongly suggest him to think twice before attempting any further contact.” Lavellan told Dorian, her jaw set and her posture rigid. She hadn’t been in contact with human mages, the reality of the Circles had been difficult for her, knowing she could have been in one of them was she not Dalish. She nodded at them and strode away, back to her other numerous Inquisitor duties.

Cullen sat back, putting the puzzles together. Dorian wasn’t a monster, but his father was.

“Check mate, commander.”

 

Dorian’s research on Corypheus’ origins was slowly giving way, but there wasn’t much information on him in the books of Skyhold’s library. He would require new books to Josephine and would invest his time on various tasks in the tower in the meanwhile, such as putting some order and taking the inventory of what literature Skyhold possessed. There were many Andrastian books and forty-eight copies of Hard in Hightown, but nothing from legitimate Tevinter authors.

Fiona would help sometimes, when she wasn’t busy with her own research, but they found themselves often talking about her life. Not only had she been the leader of the mage rebels, she planned on reforming the College of Enchanters, which would give a lot more freedom to the mages who wished to learn in a safe environment. They were discussing the matter when Cassandra interrupted them with a large book in her hands.

She was rarely seen in the library, let alone in such a disarray state. Her eyes were bloodshot, from crying or drinking, and her complexion was like ashes, a look Cullen would often wear.

“Dorian, may I talk to you?” She asked him anxiously.

“We’ll discuss later, Dorian.”  The women nodded at each other and the elf returned to her corner of the library.

“What may I help you with, Lady Pentaghast?”

“Cassandra, please. There’s something I need you to see.” She led him to the nearest table and put down her book, opening it at a certain page. “This is a book on the Seekers’ secrets, I’d like you to read the passage on the process of becoming a Seeker.”

“The rite of Tranquility is reversible,” Dorian stated once he was done.

“The Seekers kept this a secret for the greater good, but the rite was firstly used at first on potentially dangerous mages, and to know it could be reversed would’ve turned the Chantry into a mockery.” She pressed her hand against her forehead, closing her eyes for a second.

“Where executions would have showed more mercy,” Dorian added. “This spirit of faith…”

“Visited me after months of praying, I wasn’t even aware I was a Tranquil. I talked to Solas, however, who told me it would be possible to summon one. He has… his way.”

“You wish to reverse my rite?”

“Yes, if you’re willing. I know your current state might bring you peacefulness over your previous problems, but think about it, Dorian.”

Dorian’s eyes strained on the pages. “I am. I do not remember how it happened, but I know I was trapped for months in my parents’ house before I became Tranquil. The choice wasn’t mine. Retrieving my magic would also help the Inquisition, as I could teach the mage recruits and accompany the Inquisitor on her missions.”

“A wise answer. So you accept?” Cassandra asked, almost eager. She hadn’t talked to Cullen about this, but if Dorian was willing, she probably would have to. He was a bit too attached to the Tevinter to not be aware of this without being angry.

“I do. May I borrow your book?”

Cassandra refrained very hard not to hug Dorian right then and there. She smiled instead. “Of course. I’ll ask Solas when he is ready for the ritual.”

Things quickly went down from there, as Solas was available the following day. Sharing the news to Cullen proved to be easier than Cassandra anticipated, he actually pretended to serve as a witness and assistant to be there, but a look at his eagerness proved to Solas he only wanted to be there for Dorian.

Summoning a Spirit of Faith wasn’t an easy task, but Solas had been talking to some, during his… trips to the Fade, but faith meant more than believing in a God, and the Spirit saw in Dorian’s memories the deep conviction that he could change things for the better in the Imperium. He might not believe in himself yet, but he believed in his abilities and his powerful magic.

Dorian could only describe the sweeping change as only being used to seeing the world in black and white; to suddenly being hit by the reds, the blues and the yellows and all the colors they created. It was overwhelming.

The brush of an invisible hand vanished, and he fell forward, right in Cullen’s arms.

He stared up at his honeyed eyes and thought he would vomit. Luckily the commander didn’t mind holding him up as his legs wouldn’t operate anymore.

“How are you?” Solas asked, blue hands hovering to make sure he wasn’t injured.

“I feel… like I was kicked out of my body months ago, shoved in a very dark corner of my head, and forced to watch through the window of my cage.” Everything was coming back at once. His helplessness as he was a prisoner in his own home, the anger and frustration when his father announced him what he intended to do for him to obey. He remembered begging, screaming and pleading, but nothing had changed his mind. And now the only person who had been willing to help him was dead, and Dorian hadn’t even been there to mourn him properly.

“At least you feel now,” Cullen offered softly.

“I feel too much, I… This is too much.” Dorian pushed himself away from the comfort of Cullen and fled the room. Cullen tried to follow him, but Solas stopped him.

“Let him take a hold of himself again.”

Dorian quickly walked to his room above the garden. It was only once the door was locked behind him that he fell on his knees, sobs wrecking his whole body. He didn’t know the exact reason he was crying. For his friend, for himself, for the year he spent as an emotionless doll. He could remember everything that happened to him, the way people were weary of him or made fun of his Tranquil state, the rape threats and the random hits just because they knew he wouldn’t fight back. He was crying for everything he’d lost and everything he’d gained.

He pressed a hand against his mouth to supress the sounds he was making, unable to stop. It was just too much at once. He cried for a long time, not even bothering to find a more comfortable place than the floor. The physical aches meant he was still alive and well despite everything that happened to him.

Once he was able to calm himself long enough, he got on his feet and cleaned his face, pressing his digits against his hot lids until he saw spots dancing. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess and of various lengths due to the lack of maintenance of his shaved sides. He was cleanly shaved, but no more moustache nor goatee, the sun carved in his forehead now a pinky scar. He didn’t trust his healing spells, he would need to visit the healer for that. He didn’t particularly wished to keep the scar as a reminiscence.

He took a long breath and sighed when he could easily reach into his mana reserve to cast a spell he memorised a long time ago, when his father kept forcing him to shave his face for official events. Under his eyes, his moustache grew, and he only needed to clean it up with small scissors. It was a welcoming sight.

The hair would be a bit more difficult, as he would usually visit a barber to take care of that. He found styling oil in the very bottom of his luggage, unused for months, as well as some cheap whiskey. He was surprised to see that there, his Tranquil self probably thought it was a waste of space or something. He grabbed it and took a mouthful. That felt good.

Dorian spent the next days getting drunk in his quarters, not leaving except to steal some alcohol from the cellar and food from the kitchen.

He woke up one morning with his hips thrusting against the mattress, his cock hard and throbbing. Well, certain needs were coming back, it seemed. He only needed to jerk himself a few times to spill what seemed to be a year worth of cum. He felt better after this, but it was only after a much needed bath that he truly felt alive once again.

He was ready to face the world. Well, to face it up to the library, at least, because that’s where his research notes were. The persons he met were glad to see him again, he knew they were trying to make things for him as welcoming as possible, and that warmed his heart and eased up his nerves. Who knew people would like him despite the fact he had no personality? Now he only hoped their opinion on him would be the same, for he refused to try to be someone he wasn’t. No more of that.

At least his work was the same, but now he had the interest and curiosity to discover the truth as well. He was deep in a book, installed in his alcove, when footsteps echoed in the stairway. Dorian didn’t even have to think to know they belonged to Commander Cullen, and he instinctively straightened in his chair.

“Commander,” he greeted the Fereldan with a polite smile, and Cullen’s steps faltered for a second before he joined him in his secluded corner.

“Dorian, it’s good to see you. I uh-, I brought you these.” He gave him a small white box, and Dorian took it with raised eyebrows. “These are spicy chocolates. Josephine recommended them to them, she said chocolate helped with anything, and… I hope you like them.”

Was that a blush on the handsome commander’s face? Dorian did remember seeing a few of those but never acknowledged them. There was something enticing about a grown man easily flustered, even more when it was because he was offering him a gift.

“It’s much appreciated, commander. I don’t remember eating these in ages.” He opened the box and popped one in his mouth, humming in appreciation. He almost asked if he brought comfort chocolates to everyone in Skyhold, but preferred to keep that question for himself. He ate two before he could stop himself.

“You’ve got a moustache now.” Cullen leaned against a bookshelf, the fur of his mantle brushing his jaw.

“Yes. I always preferred it that way, it adds to my charms. Would you like one?”

Cullen accepted one with a bit of reluctance, as he had little to no resistance to spicy food. The chocolate was too spicy for his liking, but he tried to hide it behind a subtle cough. Dorian laughed, seeing through his trick.

“Southerners don’t appreciate the multiple flavours of spices as much as we do, a pity.”

“We appreciate our tongue intact, I suppose,” Cullen managed to say once the fire dimmed in his mouth.

“And there’s more important uses for your tongue, yes?”

Cullen’s face became red. He shifted and rubbed his neck. Dorian took pity on him, he probably wasn’t used to him being emotional, let alone flirty.

“Was there something else you wished to discuss?”

“Yes, actually. We were to have a chess game tomorrow. Are you still up to it?”

“Of course. Anything to spend some time with a handsome man.”

Cullen chuckled in disbelief. “Alright, then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Commander.”

“Cullen, remember?” Cullen’s smirk tugged on his scar, and Dorian dove for another chocolate to distract himself.

“I do. Good day, Cullen.”

As he watched the commander walk away, he finally recognized the feeling tugging at his heart.

“Vishante kaffas.”

 

Slowly, without realizing it, Dorian became happier than he ever had been. It wasn’t a conscious process, but he always had to hide who he was; his personality, his opinions, his sexual preferences. Lavellan’s inner circle was so eclectic than the companions accepted each other without a blink. Despite his mild fear, the same thing occurred for him. He supposed he was accepted when Sera pulled a prank on him and they became friends after he told her of the terrible pranks he himself pulled in the multiple circles of magi he frequented in his rebellious youth. Lavellan was very fond of her and he could see why.

Solas and him discovered a shared interest for magic theories and would often talk about them for hours, and Dorian encouraged him to use some milk and sugar in his teas. He thanked Cassandra for her help by giving her some smutty Tevinter books, which she eagerly accepted with a blush and a warning to keep this a secret. Varric, being himself, invited him with Iron Bull and the Chargers to swap stories one night, and Iron Bull apologised for the way he treated him previously. He stayed wary of Vivienne and Blackwall – or Thom Rainier, as it appeared, for the simple reason that he couldn’t read one and didn’t trust the other one.

Lavellan was a friendly person despite the weight on her shoulders and the mark in her hand, she would often ask to train with him. She was a knight-enchanter with a liking for lightning, but they made it work and complimented each other on the battlefield. 

And of course there was Cullen. The man was the commander of the Inquisition’s army, a force to be reckoned with and who preferred the strategic approach to solve problems. He was an ex-templar who despised mages for a long time, for various reasons he mentioned to Tranquil Dorian once, and his capacity to overcome these events and his lyrium addiction proved his tenacity, a remarkable quality in Dorian’s opinion. The most surprising was the way he acted around the mage, friendly and kind and flustering more times that he could count. Of course he’d noticed a few times the soft look he would send him when he thought he couldn’t see him, and he didn’t know what to do about it. The man was beautiful inside and out, he’d be a fool not to be attracted to him, but the last man he’d loved had rejected him and caused his father to keep him trapped for months.

Varric had invited him to a game of Wicked Grace that night and he was a bit anxious to meet all the companions together. He made sure his appearance was perfect before stepping outside in the direction of the Herald’s Rest. He was fashionably late; Lavellan, Sera, Varric, Iron Bull, Josephine and Cassandra were there already. How convenient that the last seat available was the one right by Cullen. He was greeted by a smile and those honey eyes staying on him longer than necessary. He couldn’t help but keep the eye contact until a delicious flush blossomed on Cullen’s cheeks.

“It’s good to see you, Sparkler.” Varric said from the other side of the table, knowing full well what he was interrupting.

“Sparkler? The Inquisitor is the one using lightning.”

“Don’t ask, he calls me Tiny,” Iron Bull remarked, shuffling the cards.

“Because you wear a tiny harness, don’t you?” Dorian replied, and he smirked when that earned him chuckles.

“Alright, let’s begin. Oh, let’s be daring, I’ll begin with two silvers,” Josephine said with enthusiasm. Dorian knew better than to trust an Antivan when it came to gambling, but Cullen didn’t and fell right into the trap. Well he wasn’t the only one, Cassandra and Sera did as well, but Sera quickly disappeared under the table, too drunk to continue, and the Seeker preferred to fold some time ago. Cullen lost all his money and had to bargain his clothes, determined to make Josephine pay one round or another. That didn’t happen, of course.

Lavellan was telling a story when Cullen lost another round and began to remove his armor. Varric already had his cloak on, stroking the fur and pretending to be the commander. Dorian was drinking his second cup of the evening, not willing to make a fool of himself and make advances to Cullen. He seemed very warm, now that he was only wearing his tunic and not the steel cold armour.

“Are you sure you wish to continue losing your clothes?” Josephine said with a wicked smile, only to fuel Cullen’s determination.

“She’s baiting you,” Dorian hushed in the man’s ear, hiding behind his cup. Cullen half turned to him, frowning. Sweat was gathering at his temples, from embarrassment or because he was hot, it remained a mystery.

“She is, isn’t she?” He replied after a moment, sighing.

“Not that I wouldn’t like seeing you departed of your clothes, but perhaps it is best if you fold before she steals your smalls and claims them as her own.” Dorian smirked at the thought.

“Alright, then I fold.” He threw his cards down when it was his turn.

“That means you lost your tunic, Commander,” Lavellan piped in before chuckling. She was following Sera in the amount of alcohol she consumed that night.

“Oh, for Maker’s sake…” Cullen stood, removed his tunic and threw it in the middle of the table. Dorian had a view of his perfect waist’s curve before he sat back down.

“Not a word,” he warmed Dorian before gulping his remaining ale, cheeks red.

“I shall appreciate the view in silence then,” the mage replied, eyes intently sweeping down before returning to his face.

Cullen’s blush was going all the way down his chest, an interesting fact. Iron Bull commented that they both were wearing almost the same outfit now and poured him some more ale, a distraction Cullen gladly took. It was getting late, and despite this had been an enjoyable evening, he had paperwork waiting for him back in his office.  He began to collect his armor pieces, only to realize he wouldn’t be able to bring all of them by himself.

“I’ll help you,” Dorian offered, already asking Varric for his cloak. The dwarf gave it to him after some reluctance, claiming it was very warm. Cullen’s heart absolutely did not pang when Dorian casually draped himself in it and confirmed it.

“I didn’t think the fur would be this soft,” he said, patting it. He took Cullen’s gauntlets and pauldrons from the table and they bid good night to everyone. The metal clang together on their way out.

“This is heavy, how can you wear this every day?” Dorian asked, discreetly glancing at Cullen’s flexing muscles.

“Habit. You never know when an attack may occur.”

Dorian hummed. “You forgot your tunic back there.”

“Oh. I have plenty, it doesn’t matter.” He licked his lips before giving him a slow smile. Was he aware of the effect he was having on poor Dorian? He followed him inside his office and dropped the armor parts on his chair while Cullen was being more careful and leaning them against the wall like he was used to. He turned around to thank Dorian, but there he was, inches away from him. His grey eyes pierced through his like a sword.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

Cullen puffed, his jaw going slack. He was not expecting that question. “What?”

“You’re attracted to me, I know you are, so why won’t you do anything about it?” If they were in Tevinter, they would have fucked the tension away and be done with it.

Cullen sighed, but didn’t step away. Instead he brought a hand to Dorian’s cheek, his thumb brushing the short hair above his ear. “I was waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For you to be ready. I didn’t want to be selfish and tell you how I felt about you while you had enough already to deal with.”

Dorian smiled at that and placed his hands on Cullen’s waist, slowly sliding them upwards. He liked the way it made the larger man shiver. “How kind of you. I’m not a dainty little mage, however. I know what I want and I want to be with you.”

Cullen looked down at his lips, lids becoming heavy. His fingers slid down to the back of his neck, bringing their face closer until their foreheads were pressed together.

“I really like you, Dorian, I want more than just sex.”

“I know.” Cullen’s scent was invading Dorian’s senses. He wanted more. He shifted, his moustache tickling the larger man. “I can very well see myself fall in love with you, Cullen Rutherford.”

Their mouth finally met without them knowing who made the last step, but it didn’t matter. How good it felt for Cullen to finally taste those full lips that revealed to be very soft. He brought Dorian against him with an arm around his middle, the other hand tangling in his soft dark strands. Dorian was kissing him eagerly, as if someone would walk on them at any time, but Cullen had every intention to send anyone who dared to intrude to the Void.

Dorian pressed a kiss on the scar running through his upper lip, his hands gripping Cullen’s arms and putting one of his legs between his thighs, teasing his half-hard cock. Cullen moaned at the friction but pushed himself away with a hiss when one of his robes’ clasps nipped the skin on one of his pectorals. The mage stroked the area with before kissing it better and licking it.

“Sorry,” Dorian breathed on the damp skin, giving Cullen goosebumps.

“It’s merely a pinch.” His fingers began to unclasp and untie whatever they could find. “Let’s get you out of this. Maker’s breath, how long does it take you in the morning to put this on?” He groaned in frustration even as Dorian laughed, relieving tension lifting.

“That’s my secret, I sleep in it.” Cullen couldn’t help but laugh as well. Dorian kissed his smiling lips and stood back so he could undress. He thought about making this a show, but was too eager to touch that delicious body.

“You as well, commander.” Cullen’s breeches didn’t take as long to remove, and once they both were in their smalls, they met halfway, their desire coming back with full force. Cullen was strong, his roaming hands gripping Dorian’s thighs and lifting him up without so much as a grunt. Dorian might have yelped, but the sound was muffled by Cullen’s mouth and tongue. He wrapped his legs around his waist and pressed open-mouthed kisses along the line of his clean-shaved jaw. Cullen was moving, but Dorian was more interested in the marks he was decorating his neck with. It wasn’t until Cullen chuckled that Dorian realized they were in the middle of the ladder leading to Cullen’s bed.

“You’re very distracting,” Cullen hushed, his mouth leaving an open kiss under his ear. Dorian gasped, tightening his arms around his neck.

“How in the Maker’s name are you able to climb up that bloody ladder with me strapped to your neck?”

“Endurance from wearing an armour for years.” His eyes were dark when they settled on Dorian’s whose cock twitched at the sudden confidence he found in them. “I could suck you off right here, if I wanted.”

Dorian’s breath hitched, his hips jerking against Cullen’s stomach. “A marvellous temptation, but I would rather be in a bed for the time being.”

Cullen eased them up the ladder and Dorian sneaked a hand down to his ass to feel the muscles work, which made the blond snort. If he noticed his fascination, he didn’t mention it. They reached the bedroom and he put Dorian down on the bed, but the mage wouldn’t let him go. He slid his up his back, bucking against into him with a groan, and their tongue met at a lazier pace than before.

“I have something to tell you,” Dorian said when Cullen traveled down to his neck; kissing, biting and licking his way down. Fuck, he was good at this.

“Mm?”

“I haven’t had sex since, you know… so, um, I might be…”

Cullen looked up as he kissed the nipple he had been teasing. He smiled softly at him, blushing. “We’ll be two, then.” That didn’t discourage him from continuing where he left off until Dorian was writhing under him, pleads on the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll come in my smalls without you even touching me, if you continue,” he complained, hand lost in blond curls. He had pulsing marks running down all the way from his neck to his hips.

“Maybe that’s my plan,” Cullen taunted him, but he finally dragged down the last piece of clothes remaining and didn’t waste time to wrap his hand around his cock. Dorian didn’t have callouses nor fingers as large, and it felt wonderful after so much teasing. Cullen only had to lick the sensitive spot underneath his head for him to come hard, stomach tightening and unable to repress a sharp moan as white invaded his vision for a blissful moment. He gasped once he came back to himself, cum painting his chest and Cullen’s cheek. He looked pleased with himself, that was for sure.

“Come here.” Cullen was all too happy to oblige, grinning when Dorian flipped him on his back to straddle him after he discarded his underwear far away. He moaned when Dorian moved his hips, his hard length rubbing between his ass cheeks. Dorian wasn’t there yet, but he could certainly watch Cullen come undone underneath him, his beautiful face flushed. His hair was disheveled, curls free from the product he normally used. His stomach pooled with warmth at the image.

“You’re gorgeous,” Dorian sighed, moaned when Cullen met his hips with his own, grinding into him.

“Fuck, Dorian!” Cullen whined, biting his lip hard. He was trying not to come, but the other one would have none of that. He sat on his thighs to palm his cock and sent a small lightning spell through it. That had the desired effect.

With a jolt, Cullen’s back arched as he came, almost screaming his pleasure. The shock had spread from his cock to his balls to that gland inside of him, connected everything together and giving him the best orgasm he had in years, Dorian milking him dry and watching him intently. He brought a coated finger to his mouth, sucking on it, and his own dick began to stir at the taste. He ignored it and got on his feet to fetch a damp towel to clean them both. Cullen was like a pliant lion when he came back in the bed, bringing him against his chest and nuzzling his neck.

Dorian was used to his heart remaining cold after sex, but he could very well grow used to the warmth Cullen was so easily giving him.

“Recover well, I plan on not sleeping tonight, _amatus_.”

He kissed his forehead and tangled their legs together, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> “Terror finally becomes almost bearable but never quite” is from Bukowski’s poem _there once was a woman who put her head into an oven_. 
> 
> “Tears mark the beginning of love. Even if I lose my mind and go crazy, I can’t fix things right” is from the song _Light_ by Kim Jaejoong.
> 
> My tumblr: [Claim-your-pain](http://claim-your-pain.tumblr.com/)


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